


All That's Left

by aionimica



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, SPOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI, Sex, Smut, Spoilers, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aionimica/pseuds/aionimica
Summary: There was a raw wound in her that had been kept open with salt from years of loss and loneliness and for this one brief, pitiful moment, Rey could tell herself that she wasn’t alone; that she wasn’t going to be left behind.---the hypothetical throne room scene that everyone's been asking about





	All That's Left

“Please…” 

The word fell away with the ashes that rained from above. Tentatively, Rey reached out. His fingers splayed. She couldn’t breathe; whether it was the smoke in the air or the odd swelling in her throat that she couldn’t quite swallow, Rey wasn’t sure. But she would bet on the latter.

For a moment, time stretched as she leaned forward and saw the depths in Kylo Ren’s eyes. The fullness of his parted lips and the light on his skin as fire rained down. She felt him during the fight, always there at the corner of his mind. She felt his agony when she was struck, the seeping strength and roaring rage that pulled him through. He was always there, always aware in the corner of her mind, but now he was here, in front of her, stretching out a hand. Desperation hung between them and then, like a cord, it snapped.

Rey took his hand and pulled him in. He came fast, faster than she expected, stumbling and off balance. But she didn’t stop, carrying the momentum until his face was nearly above hers and his shoulders stooped and she let go of his hand. 

His eyes were wide as she kissed him. He was still beneath her, her lips gentle against his, but then he shuddered and sighed and his mouth opened to hers and all was lost. The taste of blood and sweat passed between them and Rey couldn’t stop from breathing him in, tasting him,  _ wanting  _ him,  _ more and more _ .

Kylo’s lips moved in a soundless prayer against her and then they roved, tasting her and curling in the corner of her jaw. His hands that at first were limp at his side were pressed into the small of her back, pulling her closer and closer until she was flush against him. Heat radiated from him and beneath her hands she could feel the planes of his chest, the frantic race of his heart and the heavy staccato of his breathing as he held onto her and didn’t let go.

But the charred air was heavy on her swollen lips and her arm ached from the guard’s slash, but nothing quite ached as much as the touch of his lips against hers and the feeling of his teeth on hers skin. Rey wasn’t sure if it was her legs that gave out, or was it the subtle thought through both of their minds, but her back found the cold, hard ground of the throne room floor.

“Ben,” she gasped. His snarled across her, his hips pressing against her. Her head rolled back as he found her pulse against. Her hands fumbled against the thick fabric of his tunic. The clasp of his belt came off easily enough and her hands pushed around the rest of the fabric until her hands found the untouched expanse of his skin.

He shuddered at her touch.

“Rey,” he murmured in that low tone that carried her name, only for her ears to hear. 

Her hands gripped into the expanse of his back, her nails carving her into his spine. He hissed but didn’t stop and she didn’t want him to. There was a raw wound in her that had been kept open with salt from years of loss and loneliness and for this one brief, pitiful moment, Rey could tell herself that she wasn’t alone; that she wasn’t going to be left behind.

And so she took it with both hands in his hair and along his back, his side, craving and consuming his touch and his skin until it was all she could see or know. 

Clothes were an afterthought, not that it mattered; buttons were unclasped and ties were loosened and then his hands scraped against the planes of her stomach, reaching down to the roundness of her ass as he pulled her back to him. There was so much of him; he was always a pretense, but now, he was all she could see or feel and the groan he pulled from her as he entered was sinful. 

Blood mixed with sweat and salt and smoke and curled along the taste of him in her mouth. Rey moaned and he echoed and again he thrust and shuddered. His breath came hot on her ear, his lips murmuring nothings along her neck. 

Whatever this thing in the Force that was spread between them hummed and thrummed beyond compare, stretched to a point with pinpoint accuracy. She felt it first in the battle -- how she knew where he’d be and where he’d need her to be -- and now it fired between them with the brilliance of a supernova. They were the only two beings in existence and all Rey could see was him. 

And when she reached up and cupped his jaw and brought his eyes to hers, Rey knew that he felt the same. She rolled her hips and he gritted his teeth as the angle changed and Rey grinned and groaned.

Then in a singular moment there was bliss. She felt him inside her and in her mind, and for the space of a memory, Rey found herself to be whole. And when she couldn’t hold to herself anymore, all she saw before her was hope, longing, rage, pain. She reached out and held onto him and didn’t let go.

~

They were a tangle of limbs and salt and sweat as Rey disengaged and curled into his side. Fear and uncertainty mingled together, cloying against her skin, but whether that came from him or her, she didn’t know. “What do we do now?” 

Kylo cupped a hand to her cheek and pulled her jaw to him. He whispered his answer, ghosting across her lips. “I don’t know.”


End file.
